


Restitution - After

by Fuguestate



Series: Blair Roche Lives [2]
Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Dan Dreiberg - Freeform, Fix-It, Gen, Nite Owl II - Freeform, Walter Kovacs - Freeform, Watchmen Kinkmeme, rorschach - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-28 17:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12611684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuguestate/pseuds/Fuguestate
Summary: Blair is all right.  Rorschach is not.





	Restitution - After

Dan wakes, disoriented, to the sound of a garbage truck making its way down the street. He has a brief, groggy moment of panic at not having taken his trash out the night before, and is beginning to make the calculation of whether or not he could run it out in time, but then he registers the weight that lies half-across him, and memory of the night before slams him the rest of the way awake.

His partner – the man lying miraculously still asleep in his arms - _killed_ someone last night.

He saved a little girl doing it, and God knows Dan's not sorry that monster is dead, but…

He thinks of the phone call he got, of Rorschach's tense and ruined voice crackling over the line revealing nothing, but making it clear that he needed Nite Owl _now_. He remembers flying Archie in over the burning building, in a neighborhood bad enough that not even that drew out onlookers. He thinks of the way Rorschach's entire demeanor was changed with little Blair in the midst of that, how he tried so hard to be gentle with her. He doesn't think Rorschach even realized he was doing it.

As if summoned, Rorschach – or rather, this stranger he's never seen beneath the inkblot mask – begins to stir. Dan tries to stay still, and looks away from him for fear of setting off his partner's uncanny instincts at being watched. He has no idea what they're going to do, and wants to give his friend every possible second of rest and - hopefully - oblivion that he can.

-

A vague ache in Rorschach's side pulls him away from sleep. Slowly, he registers that he's lying in an awkward position, and wonders briefly at it before he hears the heartbeat under his ear. The night before comes rushing back in a sickening wave and he shudders, opening his eyes.

"Hey. It's okay."

He realizes Daniel's arms are around him – that they apparently were all night – and he manages to breathe. He remembers that Blair is safe, and some of the tension seeps back out of him.

His side aches again, and he clumsily shifts to get up. Abruptly, the muscles in his arms shriek in protest and he falters, hissing with the sudden pain.

"Whoa – easy!" Daniel catches him before he can collapse. "Here—" They lumber upright, leaning together, each looking every bit as haggard and lost as they feel.

-

Rorschach has settled on the couch and is looking down at his hands, or the carpet – Dan can't tell which. He glances up at the clock on the television and sees that it's just past seven o'clock. He's rarely up this early after being out as Nite Owl… the light and sounds outside feel odd and out of place. Other people will be heading to work, he thinks, sending their kids (Blair?) to school… Doing any number of ordinary things that feel horribly surreal in the wake of what has happened.

They have to get rid of the coat, he remembers. The gloves, too. His mind begins cataloguing: There's a steel drum and a blowtorch in the Owl's Nest that will take care of those. Then they'll have to find replacements…

The thought suddenly hits him – will Rorschach even go out again? He looks back at his partner, who hasn't moved. It's so strange to see the familiar pinstripe suit without all its other trappings. Rorschach is in his shirtsleeves, something Dan has only seen a handful of times before. His jacket still drapes half on one shoulder where Dan had placed it. His hat is on the coffee table, the only thing in any semblance of order while his gloves splay on the floor where they were thrown, and his mask – worst of all – lies crumpled and disturbingly motionless under the side table near Dan. Without them, revealed as a homely man whose features speak of a life that was rarely, if ever, easy, Rorschach looks small and unbearably tired. 

Dan's heart aches, but he fights the lump that tries to lodge in his throat. His friend needs _him_ , not self-indulgent pity – he can't change what's already happened. Carefully he reaches out to lay his fingers briefly at Rorschach's wrist. "We should get some ice on your hands," he says, eyeing his partner's swollen knuckles. "Come on, let's get this taken care of. Maybe there's something to eat in the fridge."

-

Rorschach looks up from his spinning thoughts and sees Daniel's hand near his. He can see now, how much damage he did to himself. Gingerly, he flexes his hands – they barely want to move, but he can at least feel the resistance is from swelling and likely not breaking. The memory returns of clawing them into Grice's shoulders to drag him away from Blair, and endlessly driving his fists into Grice's face with the need to _obliterate_ someone who would do such things. He remembers the utter loss of control in that moment, and how readily he embraced it, again. It's been years since the incident that put him in the Home – he's never spoken of it, assumed it was long buried in the work he'd put into the person he is now. But if that were true, would this have happened?

He slowly recalls that Daniel said something… about ice for his hands, and food. The latter thought holds no appeal, and he wants to decline – even looks up to do so – but then he sees the weight of this past night sitting in his partner's eyes. It adds to the burden he's already feeling; he'd insisted on taking the case alone, and worked at length to convince Nite Owl to keep clear of it. He hadn't been able to explain, not without revealing far too much about himself. And now Daniel is trying to fix things, as though it were somehow Daniel's deficiency and not his causing all of this. He swallows down useless apologies and nods instead, letting himself be led to a chair in the kitchen.

He feels Daniel's eyes on him as he painfully pulls the chair up to the table. His partner says nothing, just reaches into the freezer for an ice tray. Rorschach watches him as he matter-of-factly puts together an ice pack, automatically reaching up as he works to the nearby cupboard for the bottle of aspirin that sits there.

-

Rorschach's stilted movements tell Dan more of what happened last night than any questions he'd dare to ask. He's seen Rorschach go off on criminals, knows what kind of fighting power he's got, but it was never like this. He doesn't want to think about the sorts of things that could summon the level of exertion that left his partner nearly crippled now – his arms obviously pain him, and his hands would have had Dan insisting on x-rays under different circumstances. He sees none of the rage that must have fueled Rorschach now, wonders how someone so _small_ l could possibly contain it – but then he remembers the stories of mothers who rescued children trapped under debris, of people who walked miles in blizzards to save someone they loved, and suddenly it's not such a mystery that his friend now stands among their ranks.

He brings the ice pack to the table; his partner's gaze is still miles away. 

"Rorschach?" He carefully sets the cold pack onto swollen hands, but gets no response. His hand reaches out to touch Rorschach's shoulder, and his partner slowly looks up and corrects him.

"Walter." 

Dan feels his world tip sideways yet again. He has a name, now, for this face; an ordinary, everyday name for someone who's always seemed larger than life. He's just beginning to stammer out thanks for his friend's gesture of trust when he continues. "Not Rorschach now." 

The despair edging into his friend's features stops Dan cold. "I don't—" Walter struggles, his unfamiliar features twisting. "I don't know… "

Dan sits down in the chair next to him, stricken. 

Walter slides one bruised hand free from under the ice pack and holds it up. "I remember… I can _feel_ how I—" His words cut short and he takes a deep breath. "I wanted to kill him." He looks over at Dan – looks into and through him as he relives the moment. "I wanted to. And I did. With my _fists_." His hand shakes, and there is fear in his voice. "What does that make me?"

 _Human_ , Dan wants desperately to say, but that's much too glib an answer for this. Instead he gently catches hold of Walter's damaged hand to steady it within his own, place it back down on the ice. 

He can sense his partner's denial of the comfort even before Walter's head shakes in negation. "Don't," Dan stops him, his brow creased in sorrow. "I wasn't there with you, before – don't push me away now."

Walter still shakes his head. "You shouldn't—"

"The hell I shouldn't." Dan makes them lock eyes. "I'm your _partner_."

"And my accomplice, now." Walter's gaze slips back to a thousand-yard stare that sinks into a slow horror. "I wasn't thinking, but now you're—if they find me, they'll come for you too." He stirs as though to get up. "I'm a liability, I can't be here - so _stupid_ , I'll endanger you too…"

"Walter - _Rorschach_ , look at me." Dan dares to shake him gently before settling his hands on Walter's shoulders. "I know this is bad – God, do I know it – " his eyes close briefly from the weight of that knowledge before flashing open again with Nite Owl's determination, "but you're none of those things, and I'm not going anywhere. You saved that little girl… listen to me, you _saved_ her. Blair is with her family now, all because of you." His hands come up to frame Walter's face. "You went straight into what could have been a hopeless case and you didn't give up, and _you brought her home_. That's what you did." 

Walter's eyes close and he gasps softly, as though remembering to breathe. Dan draws him closer with a fierce tenderness, speaking into Walter's hair. "Listen to me," he nearly growls, fighting desperation, "we're gonna get through this. Together, okay?" 

Walter, Rorschach – he's not sure which one he is right now – lets himself be still and take one breath, two. His eyes squeeze shut in instinct against the endless catastrophic scenarios that want to spin through his brain. At last he reaches up, grasping Dan's arm for a moment, and he makes himself sit up to meet his friend's eyes.

He nods once, features setting into the determination that lies behind the inkblot mask every time they go into a fight. 

"Okay."

 

_-fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt at the Watchmen Kinkmeme: _"I want to see a fic where Rorschach somehow mentions/implies that he is unworthy,ugly etc and Dan or Danielle reassures him listing his good qualities. I know it has been done numerous times, still I enjoy it. Help me, anon"_
> 
> (I don't know if I succeeded, anon, but thank you for the inspiration all the same :) )


End file.
